All the Lies We've Told
by Maithduine
Summary: Percy has taken on a mission and is living a lie, and his assistant is the only one who knows the truth. A story of deception, love in a time of war, and what it takes to deny who and what you are.
1. Exposition

_Disclaimer: This is a continuation of a story I was going to write a few years ago, and then sort of just let sit. I'm picking it up again, and through the characters are the same, it's pretty much an entirely different story then the one I started with in my head. We'll see how that goes. This is a little alternate universe, starting just after Goblet of Fire. In other words Dumbledore knows Voldemort's back, Ministry is still denying it. I'm going to try to make it so everything happens just off stage of what really happens in the book, but if I mess up continuity a little I'm using the AU umbrella. Percy's not gay in this one, so if that's the only reason you read Percy stories, go ahead and hit the "Back" button. Maybe I'll do one of those later, but this one isn't it. For everyone sticking around, enjoy the fic, leave comments, don't flame, and have fun!_

Percy drummed his fingers on his desk impatiently. His assistant wasn't back from her lunch break yet. He rose and peaked out his door at her desk in the foyer of his department. Empty. He went back to his desk and regarded the pile of work still to be done that day. He reached for it, and let his hand return to the mahogany desk. He began drumming again. Percy Weasly, Junior Assistant to the Prime Minister, was worried. He was worried about a tiny auburn haired woman who kept his files tidy and his schedule running smoothly, and who should have been back 10 minutes ago. He closed his eyes and let his head rest back against his chair.

Things were much simpler before the day two months ago when Dumbledore tracked him down. He missed being a ministry drone, with few more concerns than getting his work done perfectly, kissing up to Fudge, and making his rise up through the ranks. He was going to be minister someday, he was grooming himself for it, and then Dumbledore showed up. Dumbledore had explained what was going on, the true meaning of everything that was happening, and told him some of the deep dark secrets the ministry was hiding. He was shown evidence, and told in no uncertain terms the danger that his country, his family, and everyone he knew was now in.

Percy sometimes rued the day Dumbledore asked him to be his spy, his agent, inside the ministry. And then came the big choice, the ministry would never trust anyone close to the Weasly family, they knew better. Therefore Percy himself could not remain in close connection with his family. The break would have to be big, public knowledge, and ugly. Percy immediately understood the unsaid part of that arrangement, his family couldn't know. They would never be able to pull it off otherwise, the tiniest slip and it was all over, and if one of them was captured… Percy never let himself follow that train of thought very far.

Dumbledore acknowledged that this would be a difficult task, and assured Percy he would not be alone in carrying it out. Dumbledore gave Percy a name of a woman who would be interviewing very soon for an entry level Ministry job. Percy was to request a new assistant immediately. His assistant at the time was an incompetent, bumbling man by the name of Jeff who drove Percy up a wall, so he welcomed this idea. Robyn, he was told, was very bright, incredibly organized. The granddaughter of a very old friend of Dumbledore, though passing under a false name, she would help Percy with his assignment of shuffling through Ministry document, passing off vital information to the Order. What Dumbledore "forgot" to mention at this meeting was that his new partner in espionage, Robyn Walker, was a squib.

Percy sighed. A squib now 15 minutes late.


	2. Communications

Robyn was not having a good day. As the brick wall closed behind her she nabbed her ministry robe out of her back and tossed it over clothes and stepped into the Leaky Cauldron. "Hi Tom," she waved as she headed through.

"The amount you're in and out of here, missy, people will talk" the old landlord muttered.

"Can I help it if the muggles charge cheaper rents?" she shrugged. "Besides, Diagon Alley has no good Mexican," she offered, swinging her bag of takeout and heading out, ignoring the shake of the old man's head.

The door to Percy's office swung open with a bang and there she stood, a bag of takeout in one hand, her hair somewhat more mussed then it had been that morning, and was her skirt on backward? "I'm so sorry Mr. Weasly," she muttered as she deposited the bag on his desk. "The line at Wetherbury Tacos was outrageous, and they were out of pico de galo. Is salsa verde okay?" She was handing him a paper plate and napkin and she spoke, barely breaking eye contact.

"That's fine Ms. Walker," Percy muttered, trying not to say the 100 things that were on his mind. What had taken her so long? Was she followed? Did she get the documents they were looking for? What on earth had happened to her hair? And why, he thought as the smell of Mexican food lingered in the air, was there a quesadilla on his desk?

Robyn walked out of the office and shut the door. He had considered, on numerous occasions having her desk moved inside his office, where they could speak more frankly. It would have seemed strange though he supposed, as all the other assistants sat outside in the secretarial pool. As it was every time he wanted to ask her a straight forward question he had to invent an important document they would have to go over so she would have a reason to shut the blasted office door without arousing suspicion, and even then they had to speak in code. This was the ministries building, and you never knew who was listening here. Percy shook his head. He really hated being a spy.

He opened the bag of takeout and just under the greasy wrapper of what he would later be informed was a "Chicken Chilli Quesadilla" (he had never been one for much more then a sandwich himself) he saw the envelope. Taking a deep breath he pulled the photocopied documents out, one by one. Tom Riddle, birth certificate. Tom Riddle, death certificate. At least 15 pages on the Riddle Estate, a copy of the will. And a 1930 gossip column from the London Tattler speculating on some rumors about the "Illegitimate Riddle Heir". Robyn had done very well. Percy raised his wand " Duplicata" he murmured, and a magical copy of each document appeared on a single scroll on his desk. With the information transferred, he began a series of encoding spells, covering up each line of text with a boring line about Broomstick Legislation. That finished he turned his attention back to the photocopies, and placed them in his waste paper basket. "Incendio" Percy whispered and the pages disappeared into the flames.

Percy touched a glowing ball on the edge of his desk, and knew Robyn's was glowing to life on her desk outside. The door opened and in their very best "this is a ministry interaction and nothing more" voices he communicated that she was to send the scroll to the broomsticks department, and returned to work as she headed out send the scroll to the series of owls that would eventually get his scroll to Dumbledore.

At promptly 5pm Robyn informed him she was heading home. She closed down his files, took out the trash, and turned off the light on her desk. Percy waited 10 minutes, and then tried to find a different route that would lead him through the Leaky Cauldron and out to the muggle world. By 6 he was swinging the door open to the Kings Head Tavern and depositing himself across from the woman who had departed his presence an hour before. She surveyed him with a smirk. "Khakis and a polo shirt, we're going for business casual tonight?"

He ignored the comment. "What the hell happened out there, what took you so long? I very nearly went storming through the Cauldron to tear you out of the muggle world myself! The rest of the office will wonder why an otherwise competent secretary is always late from lunch. And what the bloody hell happened to your hair and skirt?" he demanded.

To his indignation, she started laughing. "Percy calm down. The photocopier at the archives jammed. Then the archivist, who was about 90 years old, could barely get the thing fixed. Then I had to destroy all of the half copied documents so there would be no one wondering who was coping all these Riddle documents. Then I broke my heel, and since a witch would just fix it herself and never go wandering around in a broken heel, I had to duck into TopShop and buy a new pair. And then I had to pick up lunch, so no one would wonder where I was and I'd have something handy to give you all those papers in. Now would you please breathe? I've taken care of everything."

Percy was silent, but still bothered. "You're little lunch missions seem to be necessary more and more," he sighed. "The long lunch line will get suspicious."

She gave a somewhat sheepish smile. "The assistants don't think I was getting lunch all that time, they know that was a lie, and each of them has used it at least once. No, I've allowed a very persistent rumor to head around the office; no one wonders where I am." She took a swig of her Guiness.

Percy eyed her, "And where, prey tell, is that."

"I simply put it out there that I am using my lunch breaks to sleep with a married man." She picked up the basket from the center of the table. "Pub fry?"


	3. Ruminations

Percy choked. "You can't do that!" he hissed. "You can't just let people think that about you!"

Robyn raised her eyebrow. "Percy, this situation is very quickly escalating into a war. We've got bigger things to worry about then my application for sainthood. Now," she pulled out a notebook, "Ms Figg is going to be in a lot of trouble if we don't figure out how to hide her allegiances and family tree in ministry records. Grab a pint and lets get to work."

After Percy insisted on walking her back to her flat in a slum, which she referred to as an "up and coming neighborhood! There are a lot of students!" he headed back to his magical apartment in his magical world. The walk was quiet and gave him time to think. This whole situation was not one he was comfortable with. Percy Weasley had a very ordered life. He had a very ordered life plan. Espionage did not fit into any of it. He had been badly shaken finding out he spent months last year working for a murderer in disguise, and fairly sure his ministry career was over. It was about the time he was pondering his future as the ministries janitor that the new guard swept into office… and he found out he was being kept on. Not just kept on promoted. Soon after that Dumbledore contacted him and his life as double agent began. It was frustrating, he had thought his chances in life would be brought on by hard work and dedication, but the ministry only wanted him in this job to keep a closer eye on his family and Potter, and he wouldn't be much use to Dumbledore if he wasn't in such a high ranking position.

In the meantime his professional life and off hours had been high jacked by this woman, this confusing, demanding, and yet very clever woman. Wrapping documents around his quesadilla, he had not seen that one coming. He recalled the first time he had followed her into the muggle world where they could speak without worrying about who was around. She took one look at his attempt of dressing "normal" and hauled him to the nearest H&M. An hour later he had a new wardrobe, and when he got to the office the next morning he found a neatly typed list of which shirt to pair with which pants, what shoes would match and very specific instructions what occasions each outfit was meant for. On one hand he was indignant, he was 19 years old, he was capable of dressing himself. On the other, it was nice to be looked after, now and again.

He shook his head. Being a squib in the wizarding world was risky for this woman even if she wasn't involved in illegal activities. He would have to talk to Dumbledore. If his old Professor was so sure Percy needed a partner, fine. Let it be one who could wield a wand. Trying to make this woman pass for a witch was dangerous and time consuming. Besides, he scowled, he was finding her very presence….distracting.

* * *

Robyn awoke the next morning to the sound of garbage collection. She closed her eyes and waited for it to go away. No luck. She put her pillow over her head which was effective for drowning out the noise but not so helpful for breathing. "This is crap," she thought. "I bet witches just cast a spell to drown out unwanted noise. And then they sleep another hour. And then they get out of bed and magic themselves into the latest outfit from the cover of Vouge." She knew the rules of magic were none so simple. She also knew most witches neither knew nor cared what Vouge was. But in this sleepy place before she was truly awake, it was nice to dream about all the fun things she could do, were she magically inclined as her parents had been. She was born during the first war, and fearing for her safety her parents hadn't even registered her birth with the magical community. That was damn useful when it turned out she had no powers whatsoever. She was given her false name, Robyn Walker and hidden with friends in France. She was still small when her parents were killed in the first war, and by the time her Grandfather had shipped her off to a muggle boarding school the magical community seemed completely unaware of her existence. She smirked, remembering Percy's face the night before as she divulged her office misdirect. Misrepresentation must run in the family.

There was nothing for it, she decided as the truck outside grumbled. She was just going to have to get out of bed. She had two hours before work, maybe today was the day she would begin her exercise routine, go jogging, get a shower, be 10 minutes early for work. Today was the day.

An hour later she was settled in at Starbucks enjoying a pumpkin spice latté and flipping through the Sun. A very skinny girl in a smart, tight track suit jogged passed the window. "Wanker," Robyn thought. The problem with being a squib, in Robyn's opinion, is that while most people stumble through life trying to achieve dreams and live up to expectations while their betters trot past them in designer clothes with posh jobs, Robyn had to do it two times over. She would never be a talented witch or have a dazzling job in the wizarding world, like she had dreamed of as she had stirred that morning. And the muggle world, where she was supposed to try to fit in, didn't feel like the best fit either. Oh sure, the shoes were a lot cuter but what was she supposed to put on her nice muggle resume? "Worked for ministry organization you've never heard of? And that I can't talk about?" She knew too much to be comfortable in the muggle world, and she didn't have the power to be comfortable in the wizarding world. She took a bite of her muffin. Dallying in between the two worlds was actually the most normal she had felt in her life. And it was insufferable.

"Right," she thought. "It's decided. I'll help them win this war, and then I'll have Dumbledore magic me into a fabulous muggle job. And I'll get a nicer apartment and wear Chanel boots. And a Hermes scarf. And a boyfriend. And if I ask really nicely, maybe I can be confounded so I don't remember the wizarding world, so I wont know what I don't have there." Percy's face floated in her mind. "You can't miss what you don't remember," she murmured to herself softly, and was bothered that the thought bothered her. She glanced at the time her mobile on the table. "Shit!" she exclaimed, shoving the paper into her bag and snatching up her coffee. She sprinted toward Charing Cross Road. How had 45 minutes gone by so fast?


End file.
